Slipping Away
by Deja Know I Been Lookin For Vu
Summary: The second task of the Triwizard Tournament goes horribly awry. Deathfic.


**Title:**** Slipping Away**  
**Author:**** Deja Vu**  
**Summary:**** The second task of the Triwizard Tournament goes horribly awry. Deathfic.  
****Rating:**** No language, mild "violence," character death.**  
**Disclaimer:**** I don't own Harry Potter, but this story is mine.  
****Author's Thanks:**** Thanks to Jedi Emeritus for beta reading this challenge entry and creating the challenge.**  
**Author's Notes:**** This fic is a response to a challenge initiated by Jedi Emeritus. We will be challenging each other in a variety of fandoms and situations. If anyone wishes to write their own story or stories for the challenges he and I are giving to each other, go for it. All we ask is that you send one of us a PM with a link to your story, as we will be keeping a C2 archive of all responses. Challenge details are at the bottom.**  
**Main Character:**** Harry.**

****

"No, no," whispered Harry, his eyes closed as he clenched a sopping wet form to his chest with shaking arms. It seemed like all he could do was repeat the word over and over again: "No, no." As if such repetition would somehow change everything. As if that one word held some kind of power.

There were voices surrounding him, saying things to him he couldn't understand, and there were grim and concerned faces near him, mouthing things at him he couldn't see. But he ignored them. All he could focus on was the one he held in his arms. The one he had failed to save...Because he had insisted on playing the part of the hero.

_He had remained at the bottom of the lake, wanting to save everyone, but not allowed to do so by the insistent Merpeople. He had floated nearby as Cedric cut Cho free, had seen Krum come and release the one who was his—Krum's—best friend. And he had watched for Fleur to come to take away her sister—but she had never arrived._

_And so, though he had already freed the one he had been told he would "sorely miss," he had waited. And then as time began to run out, he had finally hacked at the bonds holding Fleur's little sister, fighting away the Merpeople guarding her. He had grabbed her—and his own precious cargo—and swam upward as fast as he could, kicking his legs frantically._

_But time had run out, and the gillyweed's effect had begun to wear off. And then the larger of the two people he was swimming with had started bucking furiously in his arms._

_In his panic for air, he had let his frantic passenger slip from his grip, and he'd had to break through to the surface—which had been so very close—and hand off Fleur's sister to someone else before he could swim back downward to save the one he'd lost._

_He had grabbed that limp hand and hauled that sinking body back to the surface. He had rested that body on the ground and tried all manners of Muggle and Wizard resuscitation. He had heard others trying to help out as well. Spells had flown at the lifeless body, bathing the area in a sea of light. There was a collective concern, a communal desperation, in the attempts to resurrect that which should have been alive._

_But nothing had worked._

And so here he was, cradling the lifeless form of his good friend—that blessed, wonderful, amazing companion of his—to his chest, crying a river of tears which fell off his cheeks and struck the body of the one he held, a body which had already been permeated by the chill of the lake's water.

Words continued to swirl around him, and a few of them broke through the haze which surrounded him: "dark wizard" – "not supposed to be dangerous" – "must cancel." But he kept thinking about Hermione—the one he had lost.

He could remember how he'd felt when he had first learned that Krum was her chosen partner for the Yule Ball—an immense feeling had struck him immediately after hearing the news. He hadn't known what the sensation was immediately. He had just felt a sort of hollow aching in his heart—and a welling up of anger in his chest. But then when Ron and Hermione had had their spat, which had been almost like a lovers' quarrel, he had realized something. He had realized that he was feeling just as jealous as Ron.

Of course, he had quickly dismissed it as being related to Krum's status as a major Quidditch figure, but now—now that it was too late—he knew what it really was. He had feelings for her—he—he _loved_ her.

His chest began to heave as his sobs increased in intensity. Why was it that he could only realize it now—when it was too late?

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he somehow knew it was Ron's, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from Hermione's pale face. There were a few strands of bedraggled hair over her eyes, and he wanted to move them, but he didn't want to let go of his hold on her body. That physical touch was too important to him.

He shifted slightly, moving his right arm to rest under her head. His fingers tangled in her wet hair, clinging to the thickness desperately.

He couldn't help but recall all the times she had helped him with his homework—all the times she'd saved him from danger. It seemed like he had done so little for her. Had she known how much he truly cared about her? She had been willing to stick by his side through thick and thin...She had even been willing to let his opinion of her suffer so that she might protect him. He could remember how upset he had been when she had told Professor McGonagall about his Firebolt gift and it had been confiscated from him. Then, he had just been so upset that one of the best presents he had ever received had been wrenched from his grasp. But now he could understood what she had done. She had been so fearful that Sirius might try to hurt him that she had been wiser than he had...But he had treated her so badly at the time. And not too long after they had reconciled, she had helped him rescue Sirius and Buckbeak. Had she cared for him then as he cared for her now? Or had she simply thought of him as a good friend? Would it hurt more to think that she loved him—or that she hadn't?

It seemed as if someone had known how much she meant to him. Someone had seen fit to place her underwater as the precious one he needed to save. It could just as easily have been Ron—perhaps Ron would have been even the more obvious choice. Harry had spent more time with Ron than he had with Hermione. They were best friends, and Hermione had always seemed to be second best for both of them...After all, they had united against her when Harry was mad about his Firebolt and Ron was upset at the thought of Crookshanks eating Scabbers...

But though Ron may have seemed to be the obvious choice, someone had known his heart. And now it was broken.

"It was supposed to be s-safe, Harry," he could hear Ron's frantic weeping. "No one was s-supposed to—to die. Dumbledore would—would never have agreed to—to let anyone drown. They tried to—tried to help her. Some sort of dark wizard must've...Ah, blimey, Harry." His sobs grew louder, and he could no longer speak.

Harry just bowed his head lower over Hermione, his grip on her tightening as someone tried to take her away from him. "No," he growled furiously. "_No_!"

Eventually, they did manage to get her body from him, though after they'd done so, he had pulled out his wand and pointed at them. He had snarled warnings at them which were almost intelligible, and they had exchanged uneasy glances. Then his hand had started to shake and his knees to tremble, and he had cast aside his wand and melted to his knees, feeling drained, so drained...

As he clutched desperately at the ground beneath him, Dumbledore approached, but he refused to give the Hogwarts Headmaster more than a cursory glance. He felt so hollow inside, as if a major part of him had been ripped out.

"I won't compete in the Tournament any longer," whispered Harry at last. "I don't—I don't even know if I want to be a wizard anymore. Nothing good has come from it. I may be the Boy Who Lived—but I won't stay around while everyone else dies."

"Harry—"

"Danger follows me wherever I go. I won't be a part of that anymore."

As Harry walked away from the lake, his hand curled over the single strand of hair that had been wrenched from Hermione's head when she had been removed from his arms. It was all he had left of her. It was the last thing from her body he could touch...And her hair was one of the first things of her body he had been wanting to touch for a while, he knew, now that he finally understood his heart. To wrap his fingers in her thick locks would have been so blissful, so right. He shook his head and felt the urge to let out a bitter chuckle. He would flunk out of Hogwarts without Hermione anyway—what was the use in staying?

He could feel Dumbledore's eyes on him, and he knew the man would have more words to say to him before he left. Probably something like, "Don't run away, Harry." Or, "She wouldn't want you to give up, Harry."

But she wasn't around anymore. And all he had was himself.

****

**Challenge Details:**

**Fandom:**** Harry Potter  
****Character Requirement:**** Harry Potter and Hermione Granger  
****Age Requirement:**** None.  
****AU Allowed?:**** Yes.  
****Quote Requirement:**** None  
****Object Requirement:**** None  
****Romance Requirement:**** None.  
****Required Scenario:**** Harry's reaction to Hermione's death.  
****Word Limit:**** 3,000 words.  
****Extra Notes:**** Write a short fic which describes Harry's reaction to Hermione's death. The details are up to you - she can die before, during, or after the battle at Hogwart's. Any relationships are welcome - you can stick to canon (i.e. Hermione/Ron) or create your own preferred pairing (i.e. Hermione/Harry), or have no relationship at all. The only requirement is that there are consequences of her death.**


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